A Loveable-ish Crook
by littleme36
Summary: Short stories taking a look at the many facets of Mundungus Fletcher, everyone's favourite cauldron smuggler. (Slightly AU to fit with my 'Scourge of Knockturn Alley' storyline, but can be read on it's own.) (Written for the 'So you think you know your character' competition by 'reminiscent-afterthought.')
1. A Different Kind of Snake

**A/N:**  
This is written for reminiscent-afterthought's 'So you think you know your character?' competition. The competition consists of 11 questions about a character of the writers choice. I chose Mundungus Fletcher, and all 11 questions will be answered in the chapters of this fic. Though aspects of his personality are slightly different to fit into the AU of my story 'Harry Potter: Scourge of Knockturn Alley,' most of the base character is the same, so I would imagine that these short stories can be read with or without reading that first.

So, without further ado, on to the challenge!

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**Question 1: What is your Hogwarts house and how well do you fit into it?  
**(An alternative question was 'What is your current work position and how well do you think you fit into it?,' but I decided this question would be more interesting to answer for good ol' Mundungus.)

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If you were to ask a random person on the street what their impression is of Mundungus Fletcher, assuming they even knew who he was, they will tell you about a man enslaved to his vices, always to be found at some grotty bar or grottier whorehouse. To some extent these accusations are true, and yet, as any of those who have done business with him will tell you, Mundungus Fletcher is, arguably the quintessential Slytherin.

To say something like this in certain circles would give certain high-flying members of society fits. Lucius Malfoy, for example, considers none more than Lord Voldemort to embody the essence of Slytherin, closely followed by himself, and firmly believes that people such as Mundungus Fletcher unworthy of even the slightest association with the noble name of Slytherin.

Yet is is indeed true that Mundungus, in his own seedy way possesses every one of the traits that are so prized by members of the noble house of Slytherin.

Resourceful – certainly. Mundungus has managed to build up a certain useful reputation in Knockturn Alley for being able to get hold of almost anything – for the right price, of course. And his ruthlessness in being sure he does get the right price, at least for himself, takes care of any concerns that he may not have the ambition needed to be a true Slytherin. No, his niche is not a lofty one, but he is somewhere near the top of it.

And should something go wrong in one of his deals, the speed and efficiency with which he is able to extract himself is quite phenomenal, and provides plentiful proof of his intelligence – at least of a certain variety, his cunning, and above all his highly developed sense of self preservation. He will always have an alibi, and one or two to spare. His status as a regular at various bars and brothels means they are always willing to testify that he couldn't possibly have been involved in this jewel heist, or that cauldron theft, as he spent most of the evening passed out drunk on their bar/bed/ hooker.

Despite his questionable background, he is almost certainly a pureblood. His mother was from a pureblood family distantly related to the Weasleys, and so poor they made the Weasleys look extravagant. The exact identity of his father is entirely unknown, but he was conceived in a brothel catering exclusively to purebloods willing to pay through the nose for their lay to be pure in at least one sense of the word. However, his mother was thrown out of that particular whorehouse after the birth of her child, and now works in one of the considerably less upscale establishments which is populated with people from any and all blood backgrounds. Mundungus grew up in this mixed society, and as a result lacks, and even scorns the fanaticism for blood purity that is currently rife in his old house.

It seems a shame that due to such petty bias, Mundungus was barely recognised in his house as a real member, never included and never assisted, just left to fend for himself. Whilst this arguably honed a number of his more Slytherin characteristics, one cannot help but wonder if he might one day have been a true force to be reckoned with, if only given the chance.

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**A/N:**

(This piece has been edited to correct a mistake I made about Mundungus' blood status. I recently rediscovered some old notes in which I had him as a pureblood rather than a (probable) second generation half-blood as I had previously written, and therefore changed the story to fit these, as I felt it worked better. A non-pureblood would likely have had an even harder time in Slytherin than Mundungus did.)

Bonus points to anyone who spots the CATS quote/lyrics hidden in here - it wasn't really intentional, it just fit so well at the time of writing I couldn't resist!


	2. The World's Best Street-Magician

**A/N:**  
This is written for reminiscent-afterthought's 'So you think you know your character?' competition. The competition consists of 11 questions about a character of the writers choice. I chose Mundungus Fletcher, and all 11 questions will be answered in the chapters of this fic. Though aspects of his personality are slightly different to fit into the AU of my story 'Harry Potter: Scourge of Knockturn Alley,' most of the base character is the same, so I would imagine that these short stories can be read with or without reading that first.

So, without further ado, on to the challenge!

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**Question 2: What are your hobbies?  
**

* * *

Ella's parents were taking her to the museum today. They were going to see dinosaurs and really old fish and plants and loads of other cool stuff. And this time, cos she was a big girl, she would be able to read the information signs all by herself.

They stepped off the tube at South Kensington and began the walk through the long tunnel to get to the museum. Excited as Ella was, that didn't stop her from stopping to watch some of the buskers along the way. There was a man in brightly coloured clothes playing the violin, a woman playing some sort of box thing that Ella's mum called an 'accordinon' and another man playing a recorder just like the one Ella had at home.

But there was one who really caught her attention, and he wasn't playing any sort of instrument. As tends to happen with buskers in London, this man was being widely ignored, but Ella, along with her parents were quickly enraptured. The man was dressed in purple robes dotted with silver moons and stars and had a long scraggy ginger beard. He even had a wand – he was the very picture of a cheap-trick party magician.

His tricks, however, were nothing like your standard party magician. He mumbled funny words under his breath and made tiny fireworks shower out the end of his wand, changed their shapes and colours with a flick of his wrist, twisting them round the delighted Ella until they vanished with a fizz.

He followed this up by producing a variety of impossible items from the tip of his wand, starting with a light shower of water, followed by a bunch of flowers he presented with a flourish to Ella's mother, then more fireworks, then an entire wizards hat in the same material as his robes, which he crammed onto his head as the family wondered where on earth he could have hidden such a wide brimmed hat.

The man's show went on for a few more minutes before finally, he pointed his wand at a small stone on the ground nearby, and Ella and her parents watched in astonishment as it rose up to hover a few feet in the air, spinning lazily around as it morphed smoothly into a perfectly spherical marble which slowly cycled through every colour of the rainbow. Smiling cheerfully, the man hovered the stone into Ella's eagerly waiting hands, indicating that she should keep it.

His show over, the magician now caused the hat he had produced earlier to hover over to the family upside-down, the upside-down hat serving as the universal symbol from a busker that any contributions would be gratefully received.

Ella's parents were so impressed by the show they had just witnessed that they didn't even object when Ella insisted on emptying the entire change compartment of her mother's purse into the man's hat.

Later that evening, Ella, after a lovely day at the museum and a meal at Pizza Hut where she had eaten far too much ice-cream, was being tucked into bed by her mum. The marble sat on her bedside table, still changing colours, emitting a slight glow in the darkness of Ella's bedroom.

Meanwhile, on the other side of London, Mundungus Fletcher was gleefully counting out the contents of a wide-brimmed wizard's hat. His funny little idea was turning out to be quite a money spinner – perhaps he should make a habit out of this.

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**A/N:  
**Good ol' Mundungus' favourite hobby would naturally involve some sneaky money-making! Of course, his other hobbies are a little more unsavoury, but since a few of my other stories are a bit depressing I thought I'd throw a slightly more lighthearted one in there too!

I have written a similar story to this before, set after this one when Mundungus has expanded his business a little to become a legitimate children's party entertainer. If you feel like checking that out, it's on my profile titled 'Spiro the Spectacular Sorcerer.'

Thanks for reading!


	3. How NOT to Name Your Child

**A/N:**

This is written for reminiscent-afterthought's 'So you think you know your character?' competition. The competition consists of 11 questions about a character of the writers choice. I chose Mundungus Fletcher, and all 11 questions will be answered in the chapters of this fic. Though aspects of his personality are slightly different to fit into the AU of my story 'Harry Potter: Scourge of Knockturn Alley,' most of the base character is the same, so I would imagine that these short stories can be read with or without reading that first. So, without further ado, on to the challenge!

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**Question 3: What do you dislike?**

Warning for language in this one. Mundungus doesn't exactly have a clean tongue and he's not likely to hold it back on the subject of something he doesn't like now, is he!?

* * *

Mundungus. What his damn mother was thinking when she came up with that monstrosity of a name Mundungus would never know. What cruel parent would saddle her son with a name that could so easily be shortened to Dung – and was always likely to be so shortened when it was such a mouthful spoken in full.

They could have gone for Gus, of course, which was still in his opinion a stupid name, but not quite so bad. Mundungus had tried so hard to get people to call him Gus as a child, but young boys can be cruel, and the name Dung stuck.

Eventually he had given up. No-one listened when he told them not to call him Dung, it was too much fun for them to watch him get cross and upset every time they shouted it at him across the common room. So he had stopped getting cross, and just accepted the name. Outwardly, at any rate. Inside he still fumed every time he heard it.

Merlin's crappy Dung shitting arse he hated that name.

* * *

**A/N:**

Shortest one yet! Really though, does it need more words? What sane parent would name their kid Mundungus?! What sane child wouldn't dislike being lumbered with that name!

Thanks for reading!


	4. Difficult Questions

**A/N:**

This is written for reminiscent-afterthought's 'So you think you know your character?' competition. The competition consists of 11 questions about a character of the writers choice. I chose Mundungus Fletcher, and all 11 questions will be answered in the chapters of this fic. Though aspects of his personality are slightly different to fit into the AU of my story 'Harry Potter: Scourge of Knockturn Alley,' most of the base character is the same, so I would imagine that these short stories can be read with or without reading that first.

* * *

**Question 4: How did you feel when you first saw Hogwarts and how did that change?**

This question had an alternative to talk about your character's home environment, but I decided I would prefer to write a bit about Mundungus' experience at Hogwarts, since that's had a lot of bearing on the character and life-story I have for him.

* * *

"Daddy, what's Hogwarts like?"

Harry was bored of looking at his comics, he wanted to talk to Daddy now.

"Not now Harry, Daddy has to work."

A narrow escape.

oOoOo

"Daddy, will you tell me about Hogwarts?"

"Not now son, it's past your bed-time."

"But I don't have a bed-time Daddy."

"You do now you little rascal so scoot."

Cue tantrum. Distraction successful.

oOoOoOo

"Daddy, pleeeeease tell me 'bout Hogwarts."

Oh Merlin. Not the puppy dog eyes. They were just too hard to resist.

"Not now Harry it's... erm... bedtime."

"No it isn't it's lunchtime, so pretty please Daddy please?"

Damn. Damn cute little kid.

"Fine. Come on then."

Harry grinned his shining grin and climbed up onto his Daddy's lap.

Where to start? And where to end? He didn't want to ruin Hogwarts for his boy. Didn't want to tell him that after the beauty of the first sighting, the more magic you learnt, the more magic would fade from the wonders around you.

To say Mundungus was not well off would be a vast understatement - of all the children starting in his year at Hogwarts, he likely knew the best what it was to be starving, and still not know where your next meal would come from. He lived with his mum in a single dirty room in a narrow dirty house, in a long terrace of other narrow and dirty houses.

There was no doubt that every student in the boats was awed by the sight of Hogwarts blazing front of them, even Malfoy with his shiny boots that cost more than 6 months of rent for Mundungus and his mum had never seen something to compare. But for Malfoy it was just a step up from his own beautiful manor. For Mundungus, it was like another world.

Another world with all the same prejudices as the one he thought he had left behind. Mundungus' second hand everything and questionable background meant he was not popular in Slytherin and, disheartened by the unfriendliness of his housemates he rapidly slid down the academic scale with no-one taking notice long enough to save him.

Hogwarts was wonderful. It was an incredible place full of beauty and magic and opportunity, but only if you were one of the lucky ones.

How did you explain that to a five year old?

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**A/N:**

Rather than telling Harry the things that just went through his head, Mundungus instead tells him little anecdotes, some true, some embellished or entirely made up. They're generally pretty cheerful in tone, but as Harry gets older he works in a bit more of real life, just so Harry will be prepared. However given that Harry will be famous, Mundungus doubts he'll have any of the same problems, and is trying hard not to feel bitter about that.

Thanks for reading!


	5. Harry's Sweet New Wheels

**A/N:**

This is written for reminiscent-afterthought's 'So you think you know your character?' competition. The competition consists of 11 questions about a character of the writers choice. I chose Mundungus Fletcher, and all 11 questions will be answered in the chapters of this fic. Though aspects of his personality are slightly different to fit into the AU of my story 'Harry Potter: Scourge of Knockturn Alley,' most of the base character is the same, so I would imagine that these short stories can be read with or without reading that first. So, without further ado, on to the challenge!

* * *

**Question 5: What sort of relationship do you have with your family?**

For those who are unaware, my AU is one in which Mundungus has ended up raising Harry. This chapter written through the eyes of someone else, looking in on Harry and Mundungus' relationship.

* * *

Mundungus had a mother. Biologically he also had a father, but neither he nor his mother, nor anyone else had the slightest idea who that might be. The story of his mother though, is not a happy one, so let us turn instead to the observations of Mrs Mary Kennedy a retired teacher with a stern exterior and a kind heart.

Mrs Kennedy was out for a walk one day, as was her habit. As usual her walk took her through the park and as usual she stopped for a time to enjoy the sun on a bench by the path. There were a certain number of regulars, retirees like herself or parents with young children who she would often meet and say hello to. Today though, there was a man she didn't know sat on 'her' bench. He was really rather unsavoury looking if she was honest. He wore pale jeans with a hole in the knee and several more besides, a grubby grey t-shirt that had probably once been white, and a baseball cap so old the rim was starting to detach on one side. He was closely watching a young lad who was struggling to mount a small rusty bike.

The youngster was an adorable boy of 7 or 8 years old. He was small and skinny with a messy shock of black hair. As Mrs Kennedy watched, he pushed off the ground determinedly, only to fall off in the other direction before he got his feet on the pedals. It looked painful, so Mrs Kennedy couldn't help but disapprove when the man beside her's reaction was to chuckle slightly under his breath.

After watching the young boy go through a few more attempts, getting gradually more upset, Mrs Kennedy was startled and slightly alarmed when the man next to her rose suddenly and started towards the boy.

He stooped to talk to the lad, and Mrs Kennedy realised with some relief that they must be in some way related.

"Righ' then Harry, will you let me help now? Please?"

The boy looked rebellious for a moment, but nodded, his eyes shining a little with tears he desperately tried to blink away.

The man fiddled with the bike a bit, and when he rose again the pedals were gone. He then motioned the boy to get back on the bike, and began pushing him carefully along the path, gradually building up speed and letting the boy get used to balancing.

Mrs Kennedy stayed on her bench a while longer than usual that day watching the odd pair together. Scruffy as his appearance may have been the man was clearly utterly devoted to the boy. She drifted off for a while, remembering when her husband had first taught their son to ride a bike in the cul-de-sac outside their house. Her son was fully grown now, with children of his own and another on the way... David was nearly 6 now, perhaps he was learning to ride too...

She was wakened from her happy reverie by the joyous shout of the youngster on his bike. Looking up she saw that the bike pedals had now been reattached, and the little boy was cycling along on his own - albeit very precariously with the man there ready to catch him at a moments notice.

After cycling a little way away, he put down his feet to stop the bike and tumbled unceremoniously off it. Leaving the bike dumped on the ground behind him he ran back to the man with the energy only a child of that age can. Hitting the man like a speeding bullet, he hugged him delightedly about the waist.

"Did you see that Dad! I did it I did it I did it!"

"That yer did." The man's voice was rough. "Yer a clever lad Harry. Took me ten times as long when I was your age." He seemed to be blinking a lot, and Mrs Kennedy could understand his emotion. His little boy was growing up.

"Love you Daddy." Said the little boy with a grin.

The man smiled, and suddenly he didn't look so scruffy anymore. He was just another proud dad.

"Love you too son, love you too."

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**A/N:**

D'aaawe :)

I originally thought of writing a straight up description of Mundungus and Harry's relationship, but it felt a little forced so I decided instead to focus on something that would show their relationship to an outsider. I have fond memories of my Dad teaching me to ride in the same way Mundungus does it here, and our friendly next door neighbour coming to congratulate me with a Kit Kat (and 2 whole pounds, a big deal when you're 4 years old!) when I succeeded, so this story is loosely based on that.


	6. Ten Pin Kings

**A/N:**

This is written for reminiscent-afterthought's 'So you think you know your character?' competition. The competition consists of 11 questions about a character of the writers choice. I chose Mundungus Fletcher, and all 11 questions will be answered in the chapters of this fic. Though aspects of his personality are slightly different to fit into the AU of my story 'Harry Potter: Scourge of Knockturn Alley,' most of the base character is the same, so I would imagine that these short stories can be read with or without reading that first. So, without further ado, on to the challenge!

* * *

Nervous. Not really a word you would put with the Great Albus Dumbledore now, is it?

But sure as eggs is eggs, that's what he was the first time he asked me. Can't really say I blame him, it was a very strange request.

Nearly killed myself laughing I did, when he told me what 'bowling' was. Throwing a big heavy ball along the floor to knock down some funny shaped doodads called pins? The things muggles come up with, eh?

But still, you don' turn down Albus bleedin' Dumbledore for no good reason, an' I didn't have no good reason so along I went. An' you know what, it's pretty damn fun. I mean, was a bit weird at first, being out with Professor Dumbledore in muggle clothes, tryin' ta fit in with the muggles an' all that. Mostly jus' cos I was with Dumbledore though. Never thought o' him as someone who'd be mates with the likes of me, I mean, he's Dumbledore ain't he.

P'rhaps that's why he likes me though, cos I ain't smart enough to give him no in-tell-ect-oo-el conversation see. I guess I can give 'im a break from being the Headmaster Albus All-them-middle-names Dumbledore, saviour of the bleedin' world, and just hang out at the bowling alley or the pub and talk about easy stuff like that awesome strike he got the other day, or what muggle beer tastes the least like piss or summin.

People have mates for all sortsa reasons, see, and funny though it is I reckon Albus is one o' mine.

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**A/N:**

Thanks for reading!

Mundungus and Albus actually ended up joining a bowling league team, the Strike Wizards. Their team did unusually well in the league that year, with the less skilful members occasionally receiving a little magical 'help' with their aim - surprisingly, this largely came from Albus, with Mundungus serving as the distraction.


	7. Hoping the Apple Falls Far From the Tree

**A/N:**  
This is written for reminiscent-afterthought's 'So you think you know your character?' competition. The competition consists of 11 questions about a character of the writers choice. I chose Mundungus Fletcher, and all 11 questions will be answered in the chapters of this fic. Though aspects of his personality are slightly different to fit into the AU of my story 'Harry Potter: Scourge of Knockturn Alley,' most of the base character is the same, so I would imagine that these short stories can be read with or without reading that first.

So, without further ado, on to the challenge!

* * *

**Question 7: What are your present goals for the future?**

* * *

He's gonna be famous, my lad, once he gets out where people know who 'e is, so I hope tha' don't change 'im, or stress 'im out too much. Some people say Lord Whassisname is still gonna be out fer 'im. Sure as Merlin's got two balls I hope that ain't true.

Course, you'd hope he'd remember his ol' Dad, when he's got 'is own place in life. You'd hope he'll take care o' me, maybe get me somewhere more respectable an' all. Dumbledore don' want me to get out o' here til Lord Thingy's definitely gone, so I hope that happens soon too. Til then though I'll jus' stick around 'ere, doin' my bit, lookin' out for my lad, and kind o' hopin he doesn't turn out like me.

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**A/N:**

Pretty short one this time - just barely over the word limit - but the next one will be longer! See, I wrote this, forgot I'd written it and then re-wrote it as a kind of two-parter that covered both questions 7 and 8 (in separate chapters). I liked the second version too though, so I'm just going to put the whole thing up for the next question!

Thanks for reading!


	8. The Seer

**A/N:**  
This is written for reminiscent-afterthought's 'So you think you know your character?' competition. The competition consists of 11 questions about a character of the writers choice. I chose Mundungus Fletcher, and all 11 questions will be answered in the chapters of this fic. Though aspects of his personality are slightly different to fit into the AU of my story 'Harry Potter: Scourge of Knockturn Alley,' most of the base character is the same, so I would imagine that these short stories can be read with or without reading that first.

So, without further ado, on to the challenge!

* * *

**Question 8: What were your goals for the future and why did they change?**

There was a woman who lived in Knockturn Alley who had a very unusual gift. She was, in a way, a seer. Except this woman didn't see futures, she saw souls. She could look at someone and see the very depths of them, their truest, deepest desire. No-one knew of her gift though, save her, and she preferred it that way. She would wander the alleys of magical London watching, noticing individuals and observing their desires developing as they grew.

One such person she watched was a small ginger haired boy called Mundungus. The first time she saw him he was barely walking, stumbling around the streets close to his home getting into things he shouldn't have been, as a toddler is wont to do. All he ever desired at this time was food.

Whe he was older, he was walking around the alley with dreams of books floating through his head. At this point, she began to interact with him more than she usually would with one of her 'subjects' after he approached her one day with a guilty face and some stolen money, and asked her to teach him to read.

So teach him she did. He was a keen learner, and she could see in his heart that he thought this would be his way out. His hopes and dreams followed the books he read. He wanted to ride a broomstick, or go to another country, or get a giant cake for his birthday like the people in the books he read. His dreams were wonderful glowing things full of hope for happiness. But then he made the connections to his own life and his attitude changed. The people in these books had parents who took care of them, something Mundungus would never have. They also had money. Suddenly, Mundungus wanted to be rich.

At first this wasn't a problem, Mundungus was going to go to school, and then get rich, that was his hearts desire and his life plan. However, when he arrived at school that changed. First he ceased to believe it was inevitable, and then he started to think it might be impossible.

For the rest of the time the Seer knew Mundungus, his hearts desire never changed again. Lust for money truly began to consume him, and she watched as he fell into a life he'd never wanted, led on by an increasingly unattainable dream.

The Seer only ever saw Mundungus' descent. She was one of the unnamed losses of the First War. Mundungus quietly mourned her when he found out, but her full name was never known.

The Seer never saw the days after the war, never saw the day Mundungus' hearts desire changed from a glint of money long since dulled, to a new, swirling vortex of hope and love centred on a glowing smile, a happy laugh and a pair of innocent green eyes staring lovingly up at him. Mundungus had a new aim in life, a new desire in his heart. His son. His son had to be happy.

* * *

**A/N:**

So, as I mentioned in the previous chapter, this was originally intended to be cut into two chapters to cover questions 7 and 8, but I'm a scatterbrain so nevermind that! The (*) asterisk marks where I originally split the chapter, for those who are interested (hey there, empty room!). (The second part was a little longer, but it got chopped!).

Thanks for reading!


	9. Accidentally Truthful

**A/N:**  
This is written for reminiscent-afterthought's 'So you think you know your character?' competition. The competition consists of 11 questions about a character of the writers choice. I chose Mundungus Fletcher, and all 11 questions will be answered in the chapters of this fic. Though aspects of his personality are slightly different to fit into the AU of my story 'Harry Potter: Scourge of Knockturn Alley,' most of the base character is the same, so I would imagine that these short stories can be read with or without reading that first.

So, without further ado, on to the challenge!

* * *

**Question 9 – What is your heart truly in?**  
(Disclaimer – I don't actually think this question is stupid. But I asked myself how Mundungus would respond, and this is what I got.. the rest was kind of an accident, but I like it! Not sure if it's canon for my main AU yet – it wasn't before, but it might become so, since I kinda think it's funny!)

* * *

"Merlin's saggy balls, what kind of question is that? My heart's in me bleedin' chest you stupid idiot! Yeah, I know yer meant it different but that don't make it a clever question. Merlin, damn journalists."

oOoOo

Mundungus Fletcher: Heartless, or Hiding?

After recently being discovered by this very reporter to be running a secret business as a muggle 'Children's Entertainer,' Mundungus Fletcher has been fighting a case in the Wizengamot as to whether or not his actions were illegal. Mr Fletcher, who is more commonly known by the name of Dung, has a certain reputation amongst a certain crowd for certain unprovable shady activities and general debauchery.

Readers might expect Mr Fletcher to be in the questionable work of a muggle Party Magician purely for the money – after all, even an unexceptional wizard (Mr Fletcher received 4 OWLs, none graded above an A (Acceptable), and only one NEWT, an A (Acceptable) in Defence Against the Dark Arts) is capable of spells which would greatly impress any muggle. However, when asked why he was in such a line of work, Me Fletcher's reply shows that he truly does put his heart into the job.

"It started out for the money," he said, eyes filled with a vulnerability unexpected from a man who has lived such a difficult life. "But what kept me in the job was the excitement I saw in the eyes of the children when they watched my shows – it's beautiful, and that's where the real magic is."

Clearly Mr Fletcher, who was born in a brothel in Knockturn Alley, sorted into Slytherin in Hogwarts, and now works in what he refers to as the 'trading' business is not one Readers might expect to hide such a loving heart. But then, children – whether magical or muggle – have always had the power to melt even the most hardened of hearts.

oOoOo

Mundungus couldn't help but smile as he read the article. It was sympathetic to his situation and would put the public firmly in his corner in the case. Of course, it was also entirely full of lies – yes, his backstory was all true, but he had not said a single one of the words printed in the article, so it was probably intended to annoy him just as much as it was to support him.

He couldn't bring himself to be angry though, because the article wasn't actually too far off the mark. In fact, with all her made-up quotes, Rita Skeeter had for once gotten the story exactly right.

* * *

**A/U:**

Writing as Rita is hard - especially without any of the books available (in English) to check the style!

Hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you think!


	10. Certainty

**A/N:**  
This is written for reminiscent-afterthought's 'So you think you know your character?' competition. The competition consists of 11 questions about a character of the writers choice. I chose Mundungus Fletcher, and all 11 questions will be answered in the chapters of this fic. Though aspects of his personality are slightly different to fit into the AU of my story 'Harry Potter: Scourge of Knockturn Alley,' most of the base character is the same, so I would imagine that these short stories can be read with or without reading that first.

So, without further ado, on to the challenge!

* * *

**Question 10: What do you truly hate? **  
(Language warning for this one - mainly for the one little F-bomb which get's dropped about halfway down! It's Mundungus, he's always gonna be a bit potty-mouthed!)

* * *

"Why the hell'd you want me to join?"

"Because, Mundungus, I believe you could be an asset to our cause."

"Well, yeah I figured tha' one out, but why? I'm a bleedin' smuggler what makes you think you can trust me?"

"Tell me Mundungus, how do you feel about Lord Voldemort's cause? Do you believe half-bloods and muggleborns to be lesser beings?"

"Course no, don' be stupid. Why would I, wha' wi' bein' practically raised by a muggleborn an' all?"

"A muggleborn? I was of the impression that your Mother was a pureblood?"

"Didn't say nothin' bout my damn Mother did I? She basically left me to raise meself. Too busy either gettin' fucked or pissed*. 'scuse my language. Weren't her what actually looked after me."

"I see. Yes, well then, a muggleborn carer would hardly endear the pureblood agenda to you."

"En-bloody-dear me? I damn hate it, it makes me sick. Number o' fights I got in when some spoilt brat tried to tell me that woman weren't as good as my Mum cos o' her blood. Ain't no pureblood better'n her, an' if there is it sure as hell ain't cos o' their blood."

"And that, Mundungus, is why I would like you with us. If you can hold on to those ideas through 7 years in Slytherin House with the current climate, I should imagine there is very little on this Earth that could change your mind. I have no suspicions of your betraying us, and your current, er, underground connections could be useful for us over the course of the war."

"Alrigh'. Well, if you wan' my connections, we're gonna haffta keep my reputation dirty, if you know wha' I mean. If anyone asks, I don' wan' nothin' to do with it, and am only involved cos I owed you favours or summin."

"Yes, that is an excellent point, and I believe that story will suffice. Welcome, Mundungus, to the Order of the Phoenix. I am very glad to have you on board."

* * *

*Pissed means drunk in this context - In British English we use it to mean either drunk or angry, and I can't remember which meaning it as in American English so I figured I'd stick this little note in just in case!

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**A/****N:******

I'm hoping it can be worked out from context that this conversation is between Mundungus and Dumbledore - if not... - this conversation is between Mundungus and Dumbledore guys!

Thanks for reading - only one left to do!


	11. Procrastination

**A/N:**  
This is written for reminiscent-afterthought's 'So you think you know your character?' competition. The competition consists of 11 questions about a character of the writers choice. I chose Mundungus Fletcher, and all 11 questions will be answered in the chapters of this fic. Though aspects of his personality are slightly different to fit into the AU of my story 'Harry Potter: Scourge of Knockturn Alley,' most of the base character is the same, so I would imagine that these short stories can be read with or without reading that first.

So, without further ado, on to the challenge!

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**Question 10: How do you act in a situation that is extremely pressuring to you?**

(Language warning, again. C'mon, with Mundungus under pressure you didn't think there wasn't going to be at least a _little _swearing? He's actually too scared to swear very creatively, so it's relatively tame if you ask me!)

* * *

Shit.

Mundungus could hear the other Slytherins gathered in the dorm room, waiting for him to come in.

Fuck.

This was finally it, they were going to make him the offer he couldn't refuse, and he was going to refuse.

His hand was on the doorknob and he only had to twist it and push to go in and meet them.

But he didn't. He turned away. He spent the night hidden behind a tapestry on the 1st floor, hoping they wouldn't come looking for him.

He knew he was a coward. They knew he was hiding. Eventually they would catch him, they would ask him, and he would say no. He could never join their group, never follow the despicable man at it's head.

Eventually he would stand up for what he knew was right, and take the consequences. But today was not that day. Today, he was just too scared.

* * *

**A/N: **

Wow, end of the challenge! I've had this whole incident planned out in my head since I first started to think about Mundungus as a character. But then I realised that writing the whole thing would take a LONG time, so a snapshot worked better for the time being! I'll hopefully be able to write about this in more detail another time though!

Thanks a lot to reminiscent-afterthought for organising this challenge, it's been great fun, and a good exercise in character construction. Good luck to all involved!


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